Bastard of the Mountain
by Devilboy101
Summary: Revenge is tedious emotion. It's what drives most men to do unspeakable things, to one they hate above all else. Take Solomon Hill for example orphaned at his fifth Name Day. Practically raised himself to do one simple task, to Kill Gregor Clegane the Mountain that Rides. Takes place during Tyrion's Trial by Combat


**Well seeing as this is my first game of thrones story, a one shot sadley. Leave a review telling me what you think thanks.**

Tyrion Lannister sat in his cell, contemplating on the chaotic nature of humanity as he waited quietly his last hours on earth. He thought of many things in his wait, and regretted some of them, for example he regretted his anger towards Shae, his hatred for both his sister and father, and above all his rash decision for a trial by combat. He has been sitting in this thrice damned cell for days, and there seemed to be no respite. Nobody was coming to save him, not even Jamie. Sadly that was expected, really their father would never risk his golden son.

He could on the other hand make the attempt himself, fight for his life and all that. He was strong in many ways, for one he is quicker then most give him credit, and very handy with an axe. Not a chance at living, though.

Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that rides would be his opponent, or anyone who was idiotic enough to side with Tyrion instead with Tywin. Just imagining what that madman would do to him, made him green just from the thought.

Just as Tyrion was about to go to sleep, his cell door open and a giant of a man walked through, wearing a cloak step into his cell with him, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood.

"And who may I ask, are you?" Tyrion bluntly asked in his laying form, wondering who this man was.

The man stared down Tyrion for a moment before he spoke. His voice deep and gravelly. "My name is of no importance." The man simply replied.

"Are you here to kill me then?" Said Tyrion as he slowly sat up from his lay position, wondering if this man was sent either his sister or father, or possibly both finally having enough of Tyrion's games.

"No."

"If you're not here to kill me, then what do you want from me?"

The man stood there in place as a stone statue, before he reached and slowly pulled down his hood showing a face of a young man in his early twenty's, black of hair, which barely reached his ears and eyes of the deep sea. A loan scare boar across his right eye, as old as it was, but still quite visible, an eternal frown could be found on his face.

"What I want, lord Tyrion, is to fight as your champion against the Mountain that Rides." The man stated simply.

"And why, pray tell should I allow you to be my Champion, _Ser_ I DoN't Know Whom? Don't take me for a fool boy, I don not know you, and for all I know you'll just back out at the last minute, when someone else pays you enough dragons to set you up for life to forfeit the fight. " Tyrion stated calmly not believing for a minute what this man wanted.

Surprisingly, the man knelt to Tyrion's level (Or tried would be the best term, for he was a head taller still.) and looked deep within his eyes, not with a look of anger, but a look of calmness unnatural to man for his size. "Because unlike most men, I will not be bought off from this, not with gold, not with silver, nor wine, or women. You lord Tyrion would not be able to keep me away from this, even if you hire all the guards of King's landing to kill me on sight." The man sighed as he looked down, from Tyrion's sight, as suddenly as he looked down, so did he looked up with slight annoyance. "My name, as you politely asked before, is Solomon Hill." The man now, named Solomon growled out. "And I am no Ser."

Tyrion noted the last name ' _Hill',_ and contemplated about this man, even his grudge against his would be a thought hit him, like a war hammer swung from the Mountain himself . "What is Gregor Clegane, to you?" He asked curiously, wondering what Solomon would say.

A blank look came over Solomon's face, no emotion, just dead eyes, were what greeted Tyrion. He then spoke with a monotone voice. "Besides the obvious, being a child killer, and a known monster in general...He raped my mother twice, and on the second time killed her in cold blood, laughing at her cry of pain, not evening caring if a child of five was watching his own mother brutally raped and killed."

Tyrion felt bad for this young lad, to go through such torment at such a young age was by all accounts sad. His hatred for the Mountain grew that very moment.

Slowly a look of anger appeared on Solomon's features, a small snarl escaped his mouth before continued. "And the worst crime that _'thing'_ has ever committed, was having me being born a bastard from a violent rape." The words escaped from his mouth, like a growl from a wounded animal, instead of man.

Surprised met Tyrion at Solomon's proclamation, and no wonder Solomon looked so familiar...the Mountain himself, had a bastard child, and said bastard has come to kill...like father like son I guess. " And your resolved enough to not only fight on my behalf, but to kill a Mountain?" He asked, just making sure.

"Oh I am more then resolved Lord Tyrion, in fact I'm willing to kill myself just to see the deed done!" Said Solomon, as he stared Tyrion directly into his eyes, with a will of fire shown to be hotter then the flames of wildfire. Even holding out a large hand in waiting for an agreement.

With slow reluctance in trusting a complete stranger, even a bastard of the Mountain, but in the end Tyrion Lannister shook Solomon's hand in acceptance. "Then I'll see you around noon, tomorrow."

* * *

The trial indeed started at noon. When Tyrion arrived murmurs of excitement, and horror from the crowd were already contemplating of putting another dead man in the way of the Mountain that rides, many of whom were taking bets on who would win, most if not all betted against Solomon.

Said man was standing under a flap waiting for his opponent to come out, and from what Tyrion could see wearing an interesting type of leather armor, with a simple yet artistic metal pauldron and bracer. The long sword that Solomon wielded looked simple in design, yet was a bit thicker and wider than most long swords Tyrion had seen.

When the Mountain came into the arena, the crowd of onlookers were silenced by the two imposing men. Both men glared at one another, though the size difference was visible as the mountain was looking down on his opponents, and said opponent looking up in defiance towards the Mountain, the silence was then broken by Maester Pycelle beginning his long droning on things before a trial by combat, and would have been there droning on, have Tywin not just waved for the trial to commence.

Both men stepped within the circle, circling around each other like caged dogs waiting for their next meal. Tywin then shouted down to them. "Begin!"

Immediately, the Mountain charges forward, slashing with his massive great sword in a vertical arc, hoping to cut his foe in half. Solomon was ready though, and quickly defended himself by parrying the great sword into the ground, causing sparks to fly off from the force. He then kicked the Clegane away from him.

Angered now, Gregor attacks with an upwards strike, but was blocked by an unmoving Solomon who then punches the Mountain in the face, denting his helmet in the process. The crowd gasp at the show of strength from Solomon, as Gregor tore off his now ruined helm, revealing his broken and bloody nose. The big man raises a single hand to his nose, and when he takes his hand away, he glares at the blood, his eyes then looked to the one who did it.

With a roar, Gregor sliced at his opponent with a wild frenzy.

* * *

"How is that man doing this?!" Cerci yelled/demanded from her father as both combatants traded blows down below.

"I do not know." Tywin tells her, taking a sip of dornish wine. He would, if asked, admit that he was impressed with this Solomon Hill's strength and skill. Indeed, possible going so far as to say he could possibly beat the Mountain, if he was not careful, or if his opponent got sloppy.

* * *

What most people would never know, is that Solomon has been training all his life, mainly since the _'Incident'_ , to beat his monstrous father. Building his strength quickly, even traveled to Essos spending ten years there, to hone his skills in Braavosi water dancing, even tested himself in the Fighting Pits of Meereen and becoming it's raining champion for three years straight. Even fought a Khalasar of a 100 men and their Khal, killing every single one in a single night, earning him many nicknames there; such as the hundred manslayer, the Killer of Killers, King of the Fighting Pits, and one of his personal favorites, the Unchained.

All he has learned throughout his journey, has led up to this point. From the one monstrous act that Gregor did in front of his own bastard, has created the ultimate Monster, and he has come back to kill his creator.

Skills that he had learned, to now be able to slice the back knee of the Mountain, blood spewed from the open wound, and yet the man still did not fall. But instead only slowed him down, luckily his strikes were weakening at every blow.

"I gonna gut yer belly open," The massive man growled, in pain. "Like a stuffed pig!"

Solomon simply retorted by knocking a weak strike to the side, and cuts off the offending appendage, dropping the man's sword to the ground. Blood gushed out of the wound, Gregor in shock tries to stifle the blood flow, but slowly the revelation was too great.

The Mountain wailed in agony, and would have continued, have Solomon not flipped his sword, now holding its bladed edges, and knocked Gregor's unconscious with the cross guard, stifling the man's pain filled wails. Dropping his sword to the ground now, Solomon walked over to the mountains great sword, and like his father before him, picked it up with one hand. He then raised the sword over his head, and like any executioner brought the blade down. Killing Gregor Clegane in one fell swoop.

* * *

It took a moment or two, for the crowd to process on what happened, and suddenly they were all standing, cheering at the death of the Mountain, while some in the background were grumbling about about paying debts. Even prince Oberyn Martell was standing up, cheering at the death of the Mountain.

All the while Tyrion was a free man once more, even chuckling at the irony of the Mountain, a killer amongst men, the strongest man alive even, has now been defeated by his own flesh and blood.

Tyrion then met his father's gaze, and he simply smiled mockingly at at both him and Cerci, whom was looking at Solomon with pure utter hatred. A guard then came over and undid his bindings, escorting him outside of the arena. He would stay for a day, then head of towards Essos, away from his family, and possibly bring Solomon with him on his travels, mainly to keep any would be assassins that his sister would no doubt send after him. Might even go help that Targaryen girl with retaking Westeros from his family's clutches, now that would be his greatest wrench in his family's plans.

Oh revenge was going to be sweet, and it goes very well with Dornish wine.


End file.
